Perhaps Later
by LitRaptor42
Summary: From right after Part III: Endgame in Radiant Dawn. Minor spoilers about Naesala? Oneshot. I like letting Leanne narrate, because in the games, she almost always speaks in heron!


Heh. Yeah. 'Walls of text.' Duly edited.

I do not own Fire Emblem, blah blah blah disclaimer.

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It was only by the grace of her sensitive hearing that she eventually managed to find him. Sitting on one of the more unreachable gables of the castle, he was almost impossible to see as he gazed at the stars, a wraithlike shadow against the black night sky. She could tell he had been weeping - her vision at night was that good, anyway - but that wasn't what had led her there. Attuned as she was to his thoughts, she had heard the inward groan, the cry for aid to anyone who could hear: and she had known that she was his only hope for such comfort.

He obviously knew that she was approaching (she wasn't precisely inconspicuous, she reflected, in her white robes and pearly wings, gleaming in the starlight), but he didn't look at her. He remained motionless until she flew to a seat beside him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Then his own hand came up to lay upon hers, warm despite the chill of evening, and she could feel his bitter smile. There was no need for speech, truthfully; she knew precisely what gave him agony, and there was no more simple comfort he could gain than that of her presence. Yet he spoke, as was his wont in such situations, sounding as self-assured and wry as always. "Am I damned for it, Leanne?" As he continued, she was startled to realize that he was using the ancient language. Reyson had told her that other bird laguz knew it, of course, and she had always known that Naesala understood her perfectly, but his fluency impressed her. Perhaps he held the old ways in more esteem than her brother realized. "When my time comes, will the goddess bind me in chains, fill my lungs with the blood of my kin, condemn me to icy solitude? Or will there be room in her heart for forgiveness?"

She laid her head against his shoulder, his hidden anguish as clear to her as was his ubiquitous smirk on a clear day. His arm, strong but gentle, came around her, and she huddled into the shelter of his wings. "Did you have any other path, you would have followed it long ago. Tibarn and Reyson would surely forgive you if they knew what I see in your heart." She hesitated to mention the lion's behavior earlier: the hotheaded young prince was not exactly the perfect indicator of Gallia's sentiments.

Naesala snorted, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "Skrimir may be an impulsive fool, but I doubt the wise king Caineghis feels any differently than does his son. And I don't consider myself stupid enough to predict that their beorc friends will have any hesitation in watching me die writhing, if it comes to that." He sighed. "Not that I myself don't think it inappropriate."

He smoothed back his hair; try as he might to hide it, Leanne could feel his depression at the opinions of the other laguz. "Why, Leanne? Why did the goddess choose me? Should I not be frozen in stone, lying petrified on the cold ground with my kinsmen?" As he smiled wryly, her fingers inadvertently dug into his chest as a wave of self-hatred washed over him, pulsing in her blood as strongly as if it had been her own. "Mmm. Well, petrification is too good for me, after all."

"Don't talk that way," she said, unable to keep her voice from becoming husky. "Foolish man, wallowing in self-pity."

The gibe caught him exactly as she'd hoped it would, and he abruptly laughed. But the sound of it was sharp, and his arm tightened around her: she felt his sharp chin come to rest gently on top of her head. "Ah, Leanne. You're right. As usual. It's no wonder Nealuchi calls me 'Nestling,' the old coot." His voice was affectionate: she wondered if Nealuchi would ever know just how much his onetime fledgling loved him. "I act like a half-grown young thing sometimes, don't I?"

She giggled at the thought, glad to feel the waves of unhappiness dissipating somewhat: if not altogether. "No. I can't really imagine you as small."

"Meaning what?" he demanded, playing along, though his heart clearly wasn't in it.

She smiled up at him, his grin and lazy, hooded eyes the same as they had been twenty years before. "To be fair, you've a vast amount of years on me, Naesala. There has never been a time when you did not protect me"

"Yes. And at one time, Reyson." His face turned to the stars above.

"Don't worry," she said simply. "Reyson will forgive you as soon as Tibarn does. And he knows better than to think I would befriend you despite some terrible personality flaw."

They sat silently for some time, his heart evidently easing, and she burrowed deeper into his embrace to escape the chill breezes that occasionally blew through the clear night. He noticed her shivering suddenly, and asked, "Shall we go in for the night?"

"Perhaps it's a good idea," she admitted, though his concern made her a good deal warmer than she would like to say.

"Very well." He stood, helping her up, then put his arms around her. "Hold tight."

She squealed in excitement as he suddenly leapt from the gable, and they soared downwards, his hands clasping her body tight to his. Many years before, they had done just this for fun with Reyson, in Phoenicis, then later in his own Kilvas; but in daylight, not daring the dangerous rocks and high cliffs at night. She had been just a child then, barely old enough to understand how powerful he was. Now her heart pounded faster than it ever had, and caught in her throat as he quickly spread his wings to land them in the courtyard.

Breathing hard, she looked up into his face, inscrutable in the dark, blood rushing to her head. "Naesala," she said, very softly, and stood to kiss him.

It lasted only a moment, his mouth hesitant and soft. Then he broke away, and looked down: was he embarassed? "No. No, Leanne." She knew what he meant. Do not love me. That, and We cannot.

"Why?" It was more curiosity that sparked the question; she knew without even considering that he wanted it, perhaps more than she did.

He was silent for a loing moment. When he looked up again, she could not tell, even trying as hard as she could, his real emotions. But he was smiling. "Decorum. My stupidity. And the fact that we're in the middle of a war against the goddess."

She waited, but he was firm. "All right," she answered lightly, hope still alive in her heart: now was not the time, but perhaps later would be. She stood on tiptoe again to kiss him, but this time on his cheek. "Good-night, Naesala."

She felt him watching her as she went inside, and heard him say it from behind her. "Good-night, Leanne."


End file.
